For the most part, Buddy was pretty good when we told him not to say bad words that he might repeat. I think he maybe only embarrassed me once.
Buster, is a whole ‘nother story. That kid is going to give me grey hair. Lots and lots of grey hair.
Buster has learned some key phrases that we’d rather not hear him say. He, of course, thinks those phrases are awesome and repeats them time and time again.
We’ve finally broke him from “Oh my G*d.” Now he says, “Oh my G*d is a bad word. Oh my gosh isn’t a bad word.” We’re at least making some progress.
My dad taught him G*d dammit. Awesome. Thanks Dad. And don’t even think about trying to correct him. It just makes it worse.
On Thanksgiving night, I was putting him in his car seat and he said, “Some of a rich.”
Just a few minutes later, this dialogue took place:
Buster: Frickin’ people.
Me: What did you say?
Buster: Frickin’ people. Frickin’ people laughing.
Me: Buster, that’s not very nice. We shouldn’t say that word. Just say people.
Buster: The people. The people. The FRICKIN’ people laughing. The frickin’ people.
I have NO idea what he was talking about. No one was laughing until he started saying that, and then we were all stifling our laughter. It’s so hard to teach him right from wrong, when he makes me laugh all the time.